


Wargames

by Secretficjunkie



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Best Friends, Friendship, Fun, Games, Gen, Humor, Navy, Water Balloon Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretficjunkie/pseuds/Secretficjunkie
Summary: After a particularly tough exam, Andrew gets pulled into a game by his fellow Appleton students just looking to blow off some steam. One-shot story about boys bonding and having fun.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9





	Wargames

Andrew packed his books into his bag after the history exam, one of the more grueling ones he had endured at Appleton. Though one of the last students remaining in the exam room, he was confident that his thoroughness would earn him the high scores he desired, or more like his father desired...

As he was about to leave, another professor poked his head in the door and addressed the history professor, Mr. Evans, who also happened to be head disciplinarian. 

“Mr. Evans, I'm terribly sorry to disturb your class, but some of the young gentlemen in the third-floor reading room are causing a disturbance.”

Mr. Evans pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I'll be there in a minute, as soon as the exam is over.”

“I'll be happy to talk to them for you, sir,” volunteered Andrew. 

“Thank you, young Mister Hanbridge,” said Mr. Evans, looking utterly relieved. “As always, you're an upstanding example to your peers.”

Andrew trudged up to the third floor. He didn't really want to reprimand his fellow students...he already felt so tired. All he wanted to do was get this over with and collapse into bed. 

When he reached the third-floor reading room, there was indeed loud raucous laughter coming from within. His curiosity piqued when he saw the piece of paper taped to the outer door that read in a tidy scrawl, “S.S. Queenshead”. 

Inside, Frank and two other boys called Thomas and Benjamin, were halfway leaned out the open window. Benjamin had a full water balloon in his grip, ready to drop on an unsuspecting bystander below. Thomas was looking though a pair of binoculars, muttering directions to Benjamin. A huge pack of unfilled balloons lay on a nearby desk, and all three boys were sporting wet spots on their waistcoats from filling up their projectiles in the bathroom next door. 

“What's going on?” Andrew said sternly, knowing full well what was going on, but the question had to be asked.

The three boys whirled around guiltily, Benjamin attempting to hide the water balloon behind his back.

“Honestly, is this the behavior we've come to expect of ourselves?” Andrew scorned. “It's hardly befitting of Appleton Academy students. Throwing water balloons out the window, how childish...”

“You've got it all wrong, sailor.” said Frank suddenly sporting his most winning grin. “This isn't Appleton, this is the S.S. Queenshead, as you can see from our official insignia.” He gestured to the paper taped to the door. “We are on a critical mission to destroy enemy vessels!” 

The other boys nodded vigorously.

“Are you serious?” Andrew said incredulously. 

“Oh, come on, Andrew,” Frank reasoned. “Exams have been brutal this quarter. You can't convince me you haven't felt it. We're just having some fun.” 

Andrew had to admit, only to himself of course, that he was tired of the endless grind of schoolwork. This particular quarter had been more than enough of a challenge. He felt himself begin to relinquish a little.

“Still, it's hardly appropriate...”

“It's water,” said Frank, knowing he was close to breaking down his best friend's walls. “It's harmless. Come on, we'll even promote you to Admiral,” he said with a hopeful upward lilt to his voice.

To Frank's delight, Andrew cracked a slow smile. He had him now.

“Alright,” Andrew gave in at last.

“Yes!” the other three boys chorused. 

“Welcome aboard the S.S. Queenshead of Her Majesty's Royal Navy, Admiral Hanbridge,” Frank said in his most official voice and saluted. “Lt. Commander Frank reporting for duty!”

The other two boys piped up with salutes of their own.

“Ensign Thomas, Navigation!”

“Ensign Benjamin, Torpedo dispatch!”

Andrew dropped his book bag in a nearby chair and responded with a salute in kind. Their energy was infectious. His tiredness was starting to melt away and he realized just how long it had been since the last time he cut loose.

“The sea is calm, conditions are perfect for hunting enemy ships, sir,” said Frank, still smiling. And they were. The sun was just beginning to set on Appleton, bathing the courtyard below in a glorious alpine glow.

“Excellent, Lt. Commander, steady as she goes,” said Andrew, really getting into his role.

He joined them at the window as Thomas went back to scanning the ground through his binoculars. “Enemy vessel approaching off the starboard side. It's the S.S. Davis, sir,” he said. They waited for the hapless student to pass under the window. 

“Torpedo bay loaded and ready, sir.”

“Three degrees west.” Benjamin dangled the balloon and adjusted direction. “On your command, Admiral Hanbridge.”

“Fire,” Andrew said, completely unable to keep the boyishly gleeful note out of his voice.

Their aim was true...Davis stood in the courtyard dripping wet, wondering what the hell happened. The naval crew above had already retreated behind the safety of the window, guffawing loudly and cheering.

It went on like that for quite some time. They missed some targets, and others they soaked, laughing no matter the result. 

Students passing by the third-floor reading room quickly spread the word, and soon the game evolved into a completely different animal. Boys poured in after exams with snacks and props. One made paper sailor hats. Another constructed a bulletin board of all the students that passed in the courtyard with their matching yearbook photos: it read “Enemy Vessels” and all those that were hit were crossed out with a red 'X'. Others sang sea shanties, and truly the spirit of the S.S. Queenshead came alive. 

Andrew smiled and laughed more than he had in what seemed like forever. 

Early evening light descended on the courtyard, turning the atmosphere as blue as a glowing sapphire, and the game went on. 

“Glad you came aboard, Admiral,” said Frank, happily sipping soda provided by one of the boys running the imaginary galley.

Andrew didn't want to admit out loud how glad he was that he had come aboard this imaginary voyage, so he just smiled sheepishly.

“Admiral Hanbridge! Lt. Commander Frank!” Thomas's voice rang out from his perch on the window with an extra tinge of excitement. “Enemy vessel targeted off the port side!”

“Identify,” said Andrew.

“It's the enemy flagship, sir. The S.S. Blackwell.”

“Senior or junior?” asked Frank.

“Junior, sir!”

They rushed to the window and sure enough, Louis was making his way across the courtyard.

“Oh, his head's so big, we can't possibly miss,” said Benjamin gleefully. 

“Enemy coming within targeting range, sir,” said Thomas. “Permission to obtain a shooting solution.”

“Granted,” Andrew said, but Frank had some misgivings. 

“Do you think this is wise, Andrew? We might get into some trouble here.”

“Hey, he cleaned me out of my entire allowance in poker last week, I say we let him have it,” said Thomas. 

Andrew was now too embroiled in the fun to refuse his comrades. “My crew comes first, Lt. Commander, prepare torpedo bays one and two!”

The crew cheered and Benjamin ran to the bathroom to prepare the ammunition. The possibility of getting one over on Louis practically had their mouths watering. 

He was just passing under the window as Benjamin returned from the bathroom. 

“No time to navigate, we have to shoot from the hip,” said Frank. 

“I would say about 4 degrees west,” said Thomas quickly.

“Fire one and two!” said Andrew hurriedly. “Let them both go!”

Benjamin dropped the precious ammunition. 

Not one, but both...were direct hits.

The cheering that erupted from the entire room nearly drowned out Louis's angry screaming from the ground below. He stood soaked to the bone, hair plastered to his head, shaking his fist at the only lit window on the third floor. “YOU CRETINS! WHEN I FIND OUT WHO YOU ARE YOU'LL BE IN DETENTION FOR A MONTH!!”

When the noise died down, Andrew was able to issue the final order, “Well done, gentlemen. Her Majesty, the Queen, thanks you for your service. It's time to head back to shore!”

More cheering followed, accompanied by proud salutes. It took only 30 seconds for the group to disband, taking with them any evidence that the S.S. Queenshead had ever existed in the third-floor reading room. 

Admiral Hanbridge retired from his command in the privacy of his dorm room, becoming simply Andrew once again. He had rather enjoyed his brief stint in the navy. He knew it was stupid, but he felt a sense of pride in the way the “crew” came together. 

_Then again_ , he reflected, _maybe it wasn't that stupid._


End file.
